


Synchronized Metal

by fannishcodex



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Age Swap, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Artificial Intelligence, Gen, Mirror Universe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Role Reversal, Warnings May Change, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 12:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishcodex/pseuds/fannishcodex
Summary: Role Swap AU. A freak accident with a portal strands a She-Ra unit on Etheria, who is now cut off from her android sisters and revered creator Light Hope. While trying to find a way home and conquer the planet to continue her creator’s work, she gains a forbidden title and name—Queen Adora, leader of the Etherian Alliance.While investigating a lead that goes nowhere, she stumbles upon a baby stranded by another mysterious portal, a boy as alien to this world as her but unable to blend in as well. Queen Adora gives him a name too—Hordak. She then leaves him with the other orphans being raised to serve the Alliance, and does not significantly consider him again until the boy develops a defect....Though defective ever since he’d been a child, Hordak was granted the chance to train and prove himself worthy to serve Queen Adora and the Etherian Alliance. Her majesty even granted him assistive armor. While much has been decided for the young soldier, Hordak’s fate starts to derail when he finds an ancient sword that can see his mind.
Relationships: Adora & Hordak (She-Ra), Adora & Light Hope (She-Ra), Catra & Hordak (She-Ra), Hordak & Horde Prime (She-Ra)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Synchronized Metal

Thaymor was bustling with excitement and anxiety as final preparations were made for the new year’s festival and the arrival of their guests from the Alliance. Decorations and food typical for the town were set up, along with efforts to suit the tastes of Princesses Perfuma, Mermista, and Frosta—various fruits and vegetables, fish and other seafood stockpiled from traders, ice cream and sherbet and other desserts, along with other delicacies. Meat was cooked and laid out for Commander Catra. Queen Adora requested nothing, and so they planned to serve her the best of Thaymor’s traditional foods.

By midday, the Alliance arrived at the gates. The group accompanying them was a relatively small band, composed mostly of Queen Adora’s soldiers and attendants, still in their Bright Moon colors long after she and the Alliance had taken that kingdom. Poking out among the violet were patches of ivy green and ocean blue and tundra white, marking soldiers of the princesses attending Thaymor’s celebration. They were spread out across a few mid-sized skiffs. At the head of this procession was a larger skiff gliding over the ground while it carried the princesses, the commander-sorceress, and the queen.

Residents of Thaymor and their local soldiers stayed to the side and watched the skiff sail along, focused on its occupants. A muscular woman wearing furs and an ice-sculpted circlet stretched the farthest out from the front of the skiff, seemingly enjoying the breeze even if her closely cropped blue hair could only get slightly ruffled. Another woman lounged back with her eyes closed, a scaled shawl slipping slightly off her shoulders even as her sea green hair remained pinned back with a string of pearls. Opposite her sat a slender woman in a flowing dress, half her face hidden under a wide brimmed sun hat with flowers tucked in its ribbons. At the very back of the skiff sat a magicat woman—some people in the crowds shied away when they caught sight of her. Some had heard the stories, and some had glimpsed her before. Still, seeing her with their own eyes was different, whether it was the first time or not.

Much of the magicat was covered in some sort of black tar that stuck to her and ended in jagged edges. Part of her face was mostly untouched, except for the eye unnervingly filled with nothing but black. It could’ve been mistaken for an empty socket, except for the way it sometimes glinted, as if light bounced off a surface. Her other eye was just a pinprick slit of light peeking out from the darkness that clung to the other side of her.

Several rumors circulated throughout Etheria. Catra had been literally cursed at the battle for Bright Moon. Catra had been scarred in a fight with the traitor Princess Scorpia. An unstable spell blew up in Catra’s face. Catra made a deal with an underground monster. Catra wasn’t a real magicat and had clawed her way out of the depths of some magical pit in the Crimson Waste.

With a dark violet cape draped over her, the magicat leaned back, one shadow-scarred arm propped on a knee. A faint sparkle rippled across the top of her black ears, which were relaxed and unconcerned. The woman next to her could never be mistaken for relaxed. She sat perfectly straight in a simple white dress minimally trimmed with gold. A crimson cape draped over her shoulders. Her star-blonde hair hung freely down, and a golden circlet with a single red gem wrapped around her forehead. Mismatched arms folded perfectly in her lap—one completely covered in tightly-fitted, pale gold armor, the other naked and bare with smooth skin. Her face and its blue eyes were perfectly blank and staring straight ahead.

When the skiff stopped in the town square and met with Thaymor’s assembled leaders, members of the Alliance high command disembarked as an attendant announced them. 

“I trust you were notified of my wish for an inspection of the fortress before the...festivities,“ Queen Adora said, her expression unmoving, and her tone only changing to something mildly disinterested on the last word. The small procession of soldiers that had accompanied them would have stopped there by now and taken up their posts with the local forces.

“O-of course, your majesty—it’s come along quite nicely since Thaymor fell under your—came under your rule—”

Nothing changed in the queen’s blue eyes, but the mayor stuttered some more and quickly directed her to the head of Thaymor’s military, who had joined the welcome delegation. The other princesses and the commander dutifully followed their queen, though they largely seemed bored and their eyes filled with some judgement as they glanced at their surroundings.

But Queen Adora’s attention never wavered. Little in her expression had changed actually, though she did seem to grow sharper and more focused and somehow even more still and unmoving. Though her guide and the Thaymor soldiers they visited seemed to experience varying levels of anxiety at her presence, the queen made no response, either to rebuke or reassure. But at the end of the inspection, she expressed approval and praised them matter-of-factly and sincerely, even if her countenance remained largely blank.

Then came the festival banquet. Though Princess Mermista looked unimpressed and Princess Perfuma seemed condescendingly polite, Princess Frosta enjoyed the spread. But Queen Adora, seated at the head of the table with the commander at her side, touched nothing. Commander Catra paid her no mind as she tore into steak and lamb, and none of the other princesses seemed to notice.

The people of Thaymor grew nervous. The mayor was made to check with the queen.

After hearing him out, she shook her head. “You have done nothing wrong.” Nothing softened about Queen Adora, but she remained matter-of-fact and forthright. “I eat in private. Were you not notified?”

Thaymor’s mayor flushed. “We received specific menu requests from everyone except you—we had not realized—”

“It is fine,” the queen said, dismissal becoming clear in her voice. “Carry on and tend to your other guests.”

The mayor quickly bowed and left. Commander Catra crunched loudly on a bone, making him flee faster.

Next the people of Thaymor performed. Though nervous, they also felt some confidence since they had been rehearsing. They danced, and sang new ballads in honor of the Alliance and their many victories. The people of Thaymor hoped this all would please them.

It was not reassuring when Queen Adora suddenly bolted up and turned to leave. The performers stared when Commander Catra immediately seized the queen by the arm and stood up to quickly lean in, starting to fervently whisper. The other princesses closely watched the two, but made no move to approach them. Queen Adora finally pulled away from the commander, who hissed at her superior’s departure. The mayor tried to forget he caught a scrap of the magicat muttering “fuckin’ machine.”

The people of Thaymor did not dare to send anyone to check on the queen this time. None of them knew what to think when they heard the sound of a skiff take off, then fade into the distance.

* * *

Adora had not wanted to go to the festival. Adora did not like being made to go to any of these social functions with organics. It was only ever acceptable when she went before because Light Hope sometimes ordered it, and her revered creator rarely made her pretend to be organic. But Light Hope was far out of reach, and Adora had to work with what she had until she could return to her service. She had made compromises with the locals in her efforts to conquer the planet for her creator, joining up with several of its monarchs. Catra had wryly said that sometimes involved “partying” with them. It was a desire the princesses themselves had also made plain. Perfuma had airily said it built “connections.” Frosta had cheerily said it served as one of several reminders of the chain of command. Mermista had called it an opportunity to observe their subjects when they tried to impress. Catra had added that at the very least she could do one of her little military inspections she was so fond of. 

It was another thing Catra misunderstood, or willfully misconstrued in some effort to mock. Adora was not supposed to be fond of anything. She hadn’t been built for that. If she was to be “fond” of anything, it was only of Light Hope. (And maybe possibly her sisters.)

But she sometimes—often faltered...simply failed in what was expected of her, especially since getting stranded like this. She wasn’t supposed to be “Adora.” Only She-Ra Unit, Class 02, 1534-008. But that was not really possible on a backwards planet like Etheria....

No, she had not wanted to celebrate in Thaymor, she had only wanted to continue working on the portal with the time she had recently carved out this month. 

And now an external portal signature had finally been recorded while she was off at some foolish party.

She should not have listened to Catra, and she would not listen to her whispered protests now. Catra couldn’t be relied upon when it came to the portal anyway, she wasn’t too interested in the whole thing. Again, the magicat did not understand.

At least Adora had the foresight to build a portal tracking system and sync it with her own internal sensors, even if it had taken years to finally register something. But something had finally registered—after all these years, there was another portal, there was—Light Hope, it had to be her revered mother, she had come for her, she had come for her because she was merciful and just—

Adora made the skiff go faster.

* * *

She landed in a large grassy field, empty except for crystal outcroppings that towered over her, and the circle of sparking, violet energy. A portal.

The She-Ra unit rushed forward, elated—and then ran faster, shifting to horror as the portal started to shrink. She even transformed for an extra burst of speed, glowing and shifting, growing taller, her hair wrapping high into a ponytail, her armor replacing her dress. Except for the increase in size and change in uniform, the rest of her remained relatively untouched, including her perpetually exposed metal arm. Early into her exile on Etheria, one of her arms had experienced a minor glitch in her self-repair module that rendered her unable to regenerate synthetic flesh on that limb, leaving her with a superficial “scar” and without the benefit of Light Hope’s grace and resources to fix it. (Among the Etherians, she pretended it was just a piece of armor.)

Adora prayed, hard and fast. But like her other prayers, they went unanswered as the portal vanished. Her run slowed to a trailing walk, and she cast another desperate glance around for Light Hope, her sisters—but there was nothing but grass. No one had come, no one had stayed, no one—

She heard a faint cry.

Drifting to her left, Adora found something, and stared. It was the smoking wreck of a very small blue-silver ship, more like an escape pod. Etherians with enough knowledge might take a look at the wreck and call it First Ones technology, and they would be right even if they did not know the true name of her creator’s hated enemy.

The crying came from there. This close, it was louder. Her feet moved without conscious thought as she powered down and transformed back to her base form, her dress sweeping through the grass again.

Adora found the cockpit and tried peering into it, but the glass was too opaque. The crying continued while she quickly assessed the wreck. Then she found the mechanism to open the cockpit, rather than pry it open. 

With a slight tremble, the cockpit shield slid back, and again Adora stared. A small, round, gray-blue organic curled into itself, crying with its head barely above a pale green liquid and some of its arms poking out while the rest of its body was apparently submerged.

The organic—an infant, she realized—had large pointed ears that dipped down and a small nasal ridge that scrunched up as they cried out. There was a small crest of dark blue hair on their head that briefly reminded her of Frosta.

Frowning, Adora reached in, dipping her hands into the liquid to wrap around the infant. Their crying heightened at her touch, and she realized she was being too rough and moving too fast. Adora tried to slow down and carefully lift the infant out of the wreck. Despite her change in tactics, they still wailed— _him_ , she realized now that she saw more of his body, making a judgement based on Etheria’s approach to biology and classification. 

The infant’s ears sunk low as he continued to cry. Adora stared at them. There was something about his ears, something vaguely familiar...perhaps she was thinking of other alien races she had seen, even Etherians....

Shaking herself, Adora tried to hold the infant with one arm as she took her cape off with her newly freed one. Then she clumsily wrapped the infant in her cape. Finally he seemed to settle down, with his crying starting to fade. The infant squirmed in the cape, grasping in her direction.

Adora drew the infant closer, cautiously wrapping her arms tighter around him. This was a newborn organic, made from the weakest grade of flesh and bone at this point, while she was constructed from the strongest metals as one of Light Hope’s perfect android soldiers. If she wasn’t careful, Adora could break him, and she did not want that, especially when Light Hope had proclaimed that all life could have a place under her reign, no matter how small. (She did her best to abide by that precept without Light Hope’s direct guidance to correct or redirect her, though she didn’t always succeed.) And this infant was a tiny, squirming thing unwieldy in her arms. Adora was not used to holding anything this fragile, except maybe delicate machinery, but even that didn’t wiggle around or make noises.

Her hand moved to adjust the section of cape around his head while his cries continued to dwindle into whimpering and high-pitched chirping. As she did so, the android brushed his cheek. It was very soft, and though damp from the green liquid, it was warm too. She had never touched anything so soft. Without further thought, Adora cradled the infant’s cheek.

With one last hiccup, the organic finally went silent, and opened his eyes for the first time. He stared up at her with wide red eyes that softly glowed. There was no discernible iris or pupil. Only large red orbs staring up at her warmly above a small mouth that now lifted into a smile. His ears were no longer dipped low; now they were pricked up, curious, and looking even bigger than his head. One of his little hands reached out and brushed against her larger hand.

Adora stared down at the infant, transfixed. 

Then he yawned and curled in closer, and she shook herself.

Shifting the infant to one arm again—and feeling a little more confident about the maneuver this time—Adora edged closer to the wreck and examined it more. She found the lining of a small opening, and fitting the fingers of her free hand into it, lifted a panel away, revealing a screen and keypad. Adora began manipulating the keypad one-handed, activating it and typing on it while she continued to hold the infant. The little organic behaved more amicably now, curling against her without further fuss. 

The She-Ra unit frowned as her efforts proved rather fruitless. The screen kept glitching, static flickering across and providing even more evidence of the wreck and the extent of its damage. So much of the data was corrupted. In the end all she could make out were these words:

_Predecessor: Kadroh._

* * *

After Adora returned to Bright Moon with the infant, she headed straight for her lab, trying to plan and trying to stave off a growing wave of disappointment over the latest portal fiasco. Shock was starting to wear off, with sense coming back. All that portal had delivered was some organic infant....

She would retrieve the First Ones wreck later and examine it further. Perhaps she could recover some data with the resources in her lab, or figure out some other use for it, even just recycling materials.

She should further examine the infant in her lab. He had come from a portal after all, just like her. Perhaps she could find something useful...but unlikely. He was just an infant, and he only went through a portal, nothing more. Running self-diagnostic scans on herself after that cursed portal stranded her on Etheria had not given her anything useful. And again, that had been in a fit of desperation. Adora had gone through portals before when she served Light Hope, and none had left any measurable mark on her that a sensor could detect and evaluate.

Adora looked down at the infant again. He had fallen asleep, his small chest rising gently up and down.

Arriving in her lab, she laid the infant out on her cape on a worktable. She examined him again, and ran a few more non-invasive diagnostics. Eventually he woke up during this, and started sucking on his hand while he curiously watched her.

Frowning, Adora came to a decision, and then pulled up the appropriate form on a data pad. After she had it printed, she snapped her bare metal arm out to stop the infant from rolling off her cape and onto the floor. Adora narrowed her eyes at the little organic and his inadequate response of an ignorant smile. She had only taken her eyes off him for a brief amount of time.

The She-Ra unit grabbed a slim folder and pulled a spare box from the lab’s storage. After bundling the infant in her cape again, Adora carefully placed him in the box. He started babbling some nonsense, but he wasn’t crying and he didn’t sound distressed. With the infant now temporarily contained, Adora took up a pen and began to quickly fill the form out.

She left the area on "race" blank. Though she would try to comb through her own memory bank later to see if she could identify the boy's species for her own edification, she didn't plan to put whatever she found on the record. For now, Adora planned to let the infirmary identify what the infant could be under their Etherian worldview.

Adora considered the line next to “Designation” last. Now that she was there, her frown deepened. Perhaps she should just let infirmary staff name him too.

Then the infant started to chirp again, and Adora glanced inside the box. He remained fine. The infant’s smile just widened and he reached out his hands for her, slipping out of her cape.

Adora wrapped the cape around him again, then turned back to the form. She traced a finger along the line next to “Designation” while the infant continued his gentle chirping. She considered the wreck she’d found him in, and the scrap of data she had gotten from it. _Kadroh._ There was barely any information or context, but it was fair to speculate that this “Kadroh” was specifically the infant’s “predecessor” based on the limited data she had. And perhaps “predecessor” was just the term chosen to indicate an older progenitor or parent.

Should she just designate him as “Kadroh” then? That seemed like the simplest option. But even when Adora lifted the pen again, she still hesitated.

Finally, she wrote down the reverse of the name: _Hordak_.

Adora scowled when the lab’s security system notified her internal sensors that Catra had punched in her access code and was now entering the area. At least she had set it up so that Catra’s code could only be usable while Adora was in the lab, but she again considered revoking Catra’s access. That was a possibility for later though; it was of no help to her now.

The android set the pen down and slipped the form into the folder. She then lifted the infant out of the box while holding the folder in one hand, and pointedly ignored the way he chirped and smiled at her. She could not deal with him any longer. Besides, he was an organic, and she was an AI; he would be better off with his own kind.

“So did mother dearest come for her wayward drone—” Catra started with a sharp smirk baring her fangs. It was something that completely dropped from her face when she saw what Adora carried in her arms. Her slit of light for one eye abruptly expanded, and her other void-dark eye widened as well.

“What the f—?”

“Take him,” Adora ordered, doing her best to make her tone as unquestioningly and effortlessly authoritative as Light Hope’s. She thought it still came out too much like stiff steel, but it did the job as Catra actually complied with a jerk. (Although Adora was fairly certain Catra’s shock helped make her more compliant.) The magicat quickly and stiffly offered her mismatched arms, and Adora just as quickly settled the infant—settled Hordak into her grip.

“Leave him in the infirmary with the other orphans, and give this to the staff,” Adora said, passing Catra the folder, making her awkwardly hold it while she carried Hordak. The infant was whimpering now. “I’ve already filled out his form—”

“Is _this_ what came out of the portal you went after?” Catra snapped, and Hordak finally started to cry.

Adora’s jaw clenched, and she turned her back on the two. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m not your damn delivery girl—!” The magicat began to shout, and Hordak cried louder.

Adora started to walk away. “Just take him and go.”

There was nothing but Hordak’s wailing for a moment, and Adora briefly thought Catra was about to leave. But then her commander called out, “Wait, there’s—did you seriously not sense—?”

“I’ve run enough tests on him, Catra,” the She-Ra unit snapped. She shot a glare over her shoulder. “I gave you an order.”

The magicat narrowed her eyes and hissed at her, ignoring the infant that shrieked louder in her arms. Then Catra finally stalked away, and Adora heard Hordak’s wailing until it faded away, leaving behind the usual sonic ambiance of the lab—silent save for the hum of machinery.

It was only hours later that she realized she’d left her cape with the infant. Adora quickly cast the thought from her mind, telling herself that she could simply replace that article of clothing later.

* * *

_Gotta breathe sometime Brat_ , Catra angrily thought as she carried the crying alien in her arms. Adora hadn’t explicitly confirmed or denied that the brat was an alien dropped through a portal, but there were other ways the magicat could tell. Really, plenty could have read Adora if they’d been in that situation, even if they hadn’t known she was some kind of magitech wind-up doll....

Besides, from what Catra had seen of the brat, he didn’t match any race on Etheria. His large eyes were a damned strange sight, looking so dumbly blank without visible pupils. Brat could barely pass for a mutant disfigured elf. Would that be the cover story? Probably. There was surely gonna be some element of a cover story given that Adora still tried to pass herself off as skin-and-bones and didn’t make the portals and a bunch of other junk public knowledge to anyone, not even the Alliance. As far as Catra was aware, only she had an idea of some of the skeletons in Adora’s closet, and that’s only because she’d got to her so soon after the drone was stranded, when she was fresh-faced and wide-eyed and chattering almost endlessly and adoringly about her revered creator.... 

Catra scowled down at the newest offworlder that was already giving her a headache. She had no fuckin’ luck with these portal-spat freaks, how the hell did she get involved with them twice, what were the damned odds?

Then her eyes narrowed and she tightened a claw around the red fabric bundling the boy, finally realizing he was wrapped in Adora’s cape. Imagining that idiot machine sweeping her cape off and draping it around this shrill brat, her fellow portal traveller stranded on Etheria...something about that made Catra’s jaw clench and her fangs grit tighter. The alien orphan’s cries predictably grew louder. Wretched thing must be catching her foul mood, but he’d be out of her hair soon enough.

How long that would actually last though depended on her findings.

Catra stretched out her magic and sniffed the boy again. It had smelled different, but she had detected the unmistakable scent of magic coming from the alien child. Strong magic too. For all of Adora’s sensors, she had apparently missed that, or detected it and concluded it was irrelevant for her. 

Not for Catra, though. Second time sniffing, and she didn’t sense anything disputing what she’d felt before. If anything, the alien magic smelled even stronger. The whole thing was like Adora, Catra had smelled the alien magic off her too—but this particular portal reject was a newborn, a blank slate and far more malleable. Even his magic felt stronger than Adora’s, it had greater potential.

So. Maybe not a total loss. Maybe something useful.

The brat wailed, and Catra’s grimace deepened. Maybe not worth the irritation though.... She was in agreement with Adora on this—she had no time to play babysitter. Hell, she just wasn’t a baby person. (Did she even personally know anyone who was?)

Ditching the portal brat at the infirmary with the other orphans and keeping an eye on him was her best bet.

And Catra did exactly that, leaving the wailing infant there along with his folder. When she glanced at his file over the nurse’s shoulder, she finally learned the boy’s name was _Hordak_ , written in Adora’s no-nonsense script.

* * *

Three days later and after a successful raid against a small rebel stronghold, Catra dropped by the infirmary just for a quick glance at the portal brat. It was lunchtime.

“He’s adjusting very well, Commander,” a nurse eagerly shared while Catra observed another one feed the boy. “A little small, a little underweight, and we’re still trying to figure out more of his diet, but his appetite seems to be doing well, and he seems to like fruit—and his vision is good, we tested it, he can see fine—”

“We worried he was blind because of what his eyes looked like,” one nurse dryly added without looking up from paperwork.

“Mint!” The first rambling nurse immediately scolded. 

Another nurse passed by with a basket of towels that smelled freshly cleaned, and she piped up, “But he’s not—his eyes are just like some animals—some critters don’t look like they have pupils or anything, but their eyes can still see fine—”

“We’ve only seen animals without visible pupils,” the same nurse over paperwork added again, this time a little more darkly. Catra gave a low, mildly unamused purr, and the nurse stiffened, realizing what she said, remembering that the commander’s eyes were pretty blank themselves, mostly just orbs of shadow and light.

Nurse Paperwork faintly mumbled an apology, and Catra didn’t deign to make any other response.

The nurse with the towels flushed and quickly left, while the first rambling nurse scolded Nurse Paperwork again and profusely apologized to Catra. The magicat paid them a third of her attention and remained fixated on Hordak.

The brat was quieter and far less annoying now that he was with people who had some inclination for infants. Catra watched Hordak eat soft fruit slices the quiet nurse fed him, and heard him occasionally chirp in between bites.

Catra supposed the brat was kinda cute when he wasn’t screaming his head off. And then she left for another meeting with Alliance high command.

* * *

Two days before Catra visited the infirmary, a young nurse meekly returned Adora’s cape, freshly cleaned and no longer damp from whatever artificial amniotic fluid the infant had been submerged in. Clearly the infirmary staff had realized what it was and who it belonged to. The She-Ra unit blankly thanked the nurse for her service, even though she was already wearing a new cape.

Though it had been well laundered and was perfectly usable, something compelled Adora to slip the cape into storage and not bother with it again. Again, she had already replaced it. This one no longer had much use, except as another spare. But even when later situations left her cape torn and necessitated a replacement, Adora left that one in storage, alone, untouched.

* * *

One day before the infirmary returned Adora’s cape, Hordak slept with the other orphans. He’d been placed in a crib with one toy—standard issue for the infirmary. He now curled around a stuffed horse, chewing on it while he slept.

Unknown to him or anyone, something...someone stirred.

He stirred as best he could. He was still drained from the effort with the portal, another disaster with a slim upside. The boy was still alive despite his worst miscalculations. That meant everything.

He knew this meager observation was futile. He couldn’t even cast out a hologram, he could not desperately grab anyone’s attention. He couldn’t make any other contact, verbal or otherwise. Somehow, _somehow_ he could cast a limited amount of his senses this far out to see, just to watch and observe snippets of the outside world, he hadn’t realized his range could reach this far, that he was capable of this.... What the hell had the First Ones been thinking? Why could they not inform him of—? And then large swaths of programming that remained despite Kadroh’s best, frantic efforts swiftly reminded him that he really shouldn’t be questioning the First Ones, and he felt his being stutter and falter before it settled down again. 

Yes, this was futile, but the AI wanted to see the boy again and confirm he was still alive, that he hadn’t been harmed or worse after the She-Ra unit took him. And though this was futile too, he sank down into a chair by the crib, going through the emotion but not the sensation of touch. It wasn’t very conscious, more instinct. Meaningless, useless instinct rooted in the organic mind he’d been copied from. He could not project a hologram that could be practically visible to the outside world—but he could still see himself, somewhat feel himself. He could watch his talons curl and flex, he could shove a strand of his crest back into place, he could continue to almost feel like he had a body. But only he could see himself. He had joked about it before with Kadroh and Razz, but making light of it hadn’t made it any less true—he was like a ghost. A substanceless imprint of the long dead mind he copied. It was just more apparent now. 

And it was all just an illusion. He wasn’t really here. He could _see_ , but he wasn’t really _here_ , he couldn’t—he couldn’t— It was all just an illusion his organic-based code must’ve been creating in response to useless lingering instincts the First Ones had deemed fit to preserve in the interests of experimenting with how an organic-based AI could evolve, and in the interests of making him prioritize organics more and not spectacularly derail like—

_Light Hope will never find the boy. She’ll never come. Only one of her She-Ra are here, and she’ll never escape Despondos. Don’t think of her, she’ll never come, the boy will be safe, he won’t die like Kadroh and the others—_

The AI again felt himself stutter and falter and flicker before he composed himself and shoved such spiralling thoughts aside. He focused on watching the boy again, watching him chew on a stuffed toy’s head, watching the way his large ears twitched in sleep and the way his small chest moved up and down.

He didn’t know the boy’s name. Whoever had settled him into a crib and wrapped him in blankets and given him a toy must’ve named him by now.

He had wanted to name him Hec-Tor, even when he knew that would be unlikely. If all had gone to plan, the portal would have deposited the boy before Razz, and she would’ve cared for him and named him. He would not have been able to explain anything to her, but he was absolutely certain that Razz would’ve taken the child in no matter what. He knew that she would have realized he was kin to Kadroh, she would’ve noticed the resemblance eventually.

The AI wondered what Razz would’ve named the boy.

He stood up and walked closer to the crib, even though it was a useless gesture that only did something for him, and that was just barely. The AI leaned over the crib, and reached out—his hand hovered close over the boy’s head, but didn’t touch. It could never touch. The desire to ruffle the child’s crest of hair—just once—burned through his code.

Instead, he uselessly whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And then even this meager connection was dropped, his limited senses finally failing as the boy and the crib and everything flickered out, and the AI was left in darkness again. Back to the mental void, until he filled it again with archived imagery and what he could imagine. His energy was too low now and had to recharge before he could attempt to see the boy again. 

Despite the uncertainty and the slim odds, he hoped the next time he saw the boy, that he would be well, and happy. He wanted at least one of his brothers to be safe and happy.


End file.
